The Prefects' Bathroom
by xoxmitchiexox
Summary: Won-Won and Lav-Lav. Harry and his Draco-cession. Hermione just wants to escape, just for a little while, that's all. . . but she should know better, by now, that even when she wants to run, she finds herself face-to-face with everything that she least expects. Dramione.


Hermione Granger was really beginning to enjoy parts of being a prefect. Ron was driving her absolutely mad - she hated having to share a shift watching for troublemakers with him, running into him in the hallway and knowing that as he spaced out, staring blankly down the hallway, he was probably thinking of his precious _Lav-Lav_ - so as soon as her shift had ended, she gathered her things and headed off to the prefects' bathroom, where she'd soak in the steamy, scented bubbles until she looked entirely like a prune, hopefully to avoid any more time with Ron, and even with Harry and his Draco-cession.

Her much-looked-forward-to leisure was stopped short just after she'd shut the door.

She turned to lock the door, and when she turned around, she saw Draco stepping around a stall door - shirtless.

He looked up and jumped as he noticed her.

"Granger!" he shouted, so indecently not even bothering to covering his chest. Hermione was too embarrassed to get angry back - to yell he should have locked the door like any sensible person - he'd probably _hoped_ some poor, innocent girl would wander in there and see him like - like..

Hermione turned to the door, covering her reddening face with her hand. "I'm sorry! I'll just -" she reached for the door handle, fumbling with it, forgetting she'd just locked it.

Suddenly, a slender, pale, cool hand was on hers, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.

"Granger," Malfoy said, his tone still slightly harsh, but considerably softer than it had been, and Hermione looked up at him. "No one. . . erm. . . no one's going to know about this, alright?" He looked genuinely concerned - probably for his stupid reputation - and Hermione wanted to mock him for it. Wanted to, but didn't, knowing that if anyone had known she had walked in on Draco Malfoy about to bathe. . . well, she'd never hear the end of it.

"Right," she croaked. Draco narrowed his eyes, and for the first time, it wasn't in a sneer, it was more. . . scrutinizing.

"Are you. . . blushing?" he asked hesitantly, and her eyes widened, and she went back to her fight with the doorknob.

"No! What are you talking about? You're mad! Of course I'm not-" she stammered, and Draco laughed. . . a strange, infectious laugh that made her almost want to laugh at herself, as well.

"You are! What, Weasley never taken his shirt off for you?" Draco teased, and Hermione found herself tensing, unsure of whether it was from the mention of Ron, or because she didn't know what to make of this new, casual Draco.

"Ronald Weasley is just a slimy git who can go Crucio himself," she found herself saying hotly, but not quite meaning it. Ron was a great friend and all, but. . . that seemed to be it. It took her a moment to realize Draco was silent. She turned to look at his astonished face, which quickly faded back into its usual smirk.

"Is THAT how you feel about Weasley?" Draco asked. "Well, well. I always thought the two of you fancied each other." He raised his eyebrow questioningly, mockingly. . . but something else. . . something Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on. . . was there, as well. . . genuine curiosity, perhaps?

"Of course not. Don't be ridiculous. We're only friends," she said haughtily. Draco's expression changed ever so slightly - his smirk evened more to a smile, his brows inched towards one another, like he was still trying to figure her out.

"Is that so. . ." Draco said quietly, still somehow maintaining his cocky tone. He smirked once again and turned from her, walking toward the edge of the bath.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean, Malfoy?" Hermione asked. Draco waved his hand casually, then turned his face down, beginning to unto his pants. Hermione started and turned around, facing the door, irritated, blushing once more. "How _long_ are you going to be? Other people would like to use this bathroom, too, you know!"

"Well," Draco said quietly, suddenly right over Hermione's shoulder, and she jumped, nearly hitting him, "you don't necessarily have to. . . _wait. . ._ ." Hermione's eyes widened and she swung around quickly to glare at the arrogant, smirking youth.

"What are you playing at?" she growled, which only made his smirk grow. She got the distinct feeling that he was very expertly toying with her.

"I thought it was obvious," Draco said in a rasping, hushed tone. "You could," he started, stepping slowly towards her, "_join_ me. . ."

Hermione's eyes widened more, and she took a step back from him.

"What's wrong?" he asked in his husky tone. "Worried what your little friends might think? You needn't worry. . I can keep a secret just as well as anyone."

"I-I don't. . ." Hermione stammered, her mouth suddenly becoming very dry as Draco took another step, so close to closing the distance between them. She tried not to look, but found her brown eyes on his silvery blue eyes, so honest-looking, so calm.

"Loosen up, Granger. . ." Draco said quietly. "Stop being so hard on yourself for just a little while." Hermione found herself staring into his eyes, not encouraging him, but not pushing him away. . . waiting to see what he'd say. . . what he'd do. . . waiting, heart pounding, so loudly, she was sure he could hear it, too, resonating between them.

Then she found her resolve. This boy had been cruel to her and her friends, had called her awful things, had said he wished she would _die_. How could she possibly be tempted by this awful, conceited, evil-

Draco closed the space between them, pressing his lips to hers, gentle, but with a certain force, like he _craved_ it, _needed it_. And somehow, Hermione's resolve melted, and she found her lips crushing into his, a strange sort of spark between them igniting to a flame. She felt his hips pressing into hers, almost painful, but mostly bringing electric butterflies to life inside her stomach.

Draco's hands found the back of her head, his fingers weaving into her hair, and she found herself clutching his jaw and neck with both hands, as if to bring him even closer. She hated herself for how much she was enjoying it, but couldn't bring herself to stop, even as his tongue traced along her lips, she granted entrance.

Too good to be true, Draco's foot found the edge of the large bath, and his eyes snapped open as he slipped in - Hermione too entangled with him to stop herself from falling, as well.

Submerged, Hermione opened her eyes in the confusion and found Draco right in front of her, staring back with haunted, passionate eyes, and didn't stop him as he pulled her to him to share an underwater kiss before resurfacing.

Covered in bubbles, Draco continued his attack, rejoining her lips, pressing her between him and the edge of the tub, and she obliged him, once again, wrapping her legs around his waist.

Suddenly, there was a harsh knock at the door.

"OI!" Ron's voice came, and Hermione gasped, her eyes widening, and Draco covered her mouth with his hand. "Whoever's in there, hurry the bloody hell up!" Draco gave Hermione a look that said he'd handle it.

"I'll hurry up when I damn well want to, Weaselbee! Get lost!" Draco shouted to the door. Hermione heard Ron mutter something unintelligible, but knew he had left. She looked back to Draco, who wore an expression of unmasked desire.

"I. . . should probably. . ." Hermione started, and Draco nodded, then pushed her up, onto the edge of the tub. He pulled himself up next to her, looking at her.

"Sorry about. . . erm. . . getting you all wet," he said, then his eye gave a slight twitch as he realized what he'd said, then looked away, a slight redness creeping into his cheeks. Hermione smirked and shook her head, then stood, walking over to grab her wand, then started steam-drying her clothes and hair with it as Draco watched contentedly. Once she finished, she looked at him.

Draco stood and walked over to Hermione, who opened her mouth to say something, but Draco shook his head.

"No one will find out. . . don't worry," he said more sincerely than she thought was possible from him.

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly, looking away from him, gathering her things. Draco put a finger to her chin, guiding her to look back at him, and he smirked.

"And if you ever get lonely, Granger. . . slip me a note. This doesn't have to be a one-time-deal if you don't want it to be," he said smoothly. Hermione rolled her eyes mockingly.

"Yeah, okay. You, too," she said sarcastically, but she wasn't sure it sounded so bad. She'd just have to wait and see.

Draco pulled Hermione's face to his and kissed her softly one last time, then released her, and she headed back up to the Gryffindor common room.

There, she found Harry bemusedly listening to Ron rant.

"What's wrong, now?" Hermione asked Harry, who looked at her with a lazy expression.

"Draco apparently needed a bath," Harry said in an irritated, bored tone, as if this wasn't the new, exciting, devious news he'd wanted to hear about Draco Malfoy.

"I mean, yeah, sure, the slimeball _needs_ one, but it can't take _that damn long!_" Ron was fuming.

Hermione decided she'd find her way out quickly, rolled her eyes to Harry to play the part, then headed up the stairs to her room, smiling into the pajamas she was carrying.

No. She didn't mind Draco's company so much, after all.

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**xoxmitchiexox**


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